


Overcompensating

by hashtagimanartist



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Coming Out, Explicit Language, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Henry Bowers Being an Asshole, Homophobia, Idk you decide, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sexuality Crisis, because richie dared him to or something, eddie broke his arm falling out of a tree, poor baby, theyre just normal kids in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-11-02 09:51:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20705546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hashtagimanartist/pseuds/hashtagimanartist
Summary: “Overcompensating is when you do or say something a lot to make up for your own insecurities. So like when guys have big cars or act like assholes, people say they’re making up for the fact that they have a tiny dick or they’re actually softies or something.”Richie doesn’t do that though.. does he?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TW/CW:  
Period typical homophobia and homophobic language. Be aware and stay safe!

Overcompensating. 

Richie heard his dad say that word once, and then today, he’s hearing it again.

“Yeah guys i’m telling you! The snake was bigger than my dick!” He laughs at his joke and the losers rolled their eyes. 

“Beep beep! Stop fucking overcompensating, Richie,” Eddie threw his hands in the air. 

Richie knew he had heard the word before, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it meant. Eddie saw his confused expression and sighed. “Overcompensating is when you do or say something a lot to make up for your own insecurities. So like when guys have big cars or act like assholes, people say they’re making up for the fact that they have a tiny dick or they’re actually softies or something.”

Richie doesn’t do that though.. does he? He looks at the losers who all turn their heads as if they weren’t staring at him before. 

“I gotta go, guys. The sun is going down; you guys should probably go too.” Beverly started walking away, and the rest disbanded. 

Except for Eddie. 

“Wanna go to the arcade or something? I don’t feel like going home yet,” Richie offered, his front down momentarily. 

Eddie shrugged. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll have to be home in an hour or two though so my mom won’t worry.”

“Yeah, Eds, I wouldn’t want her to think I was cheating on her with you or something.”

Eddie chuckled. “Don’t call me that”

The two dragged their bikes to the arcade and pulled out their leftover change from ice cream the other day, exchanging them for the NO CASH VALUE arcade tokens. 

They played Pac-Man, and Tetris, and Street Fighter, and Eddie won every time.

“Richie,” Eddie turned to face him after he won for the fourth time in a row. “Your head isn’t in this, usually you beat the crap out of me and gloat for hours.”  
Richie didn’t have an answer. He knew why he was letting Eddie win, but to tell him would be to tell Eddie that he thought he was cute when he laughed, so he shook his head. “I dunno what you’re talking about, Eddie Spaghetti.” He adjusted his glasses.

Eddie stared at him for a second longer, and turned back to the game.

About half an hour had passed before the good afternoon came to a hard stop. 

“Fucking fairies. You know he’s a queer, right, Eddie? Or have you been banging this little fucker?”

Richie pushed Eddie behind him. “Fuck off, Bowers- we’re like 13! And we’re not together, not that it’s any of your fucking business,” he muttered under his breath. No luck. Bowers still heard him. He took a stomp forward and Richie stepped properly in front of Eddie’s small frame.

Bowers chuckled and spoke to Eddie as if Richie wasn’t there. “You really don’t know? He tried to get it on with my little cousin about a week ago.” He snatched a token off the arcade game and held it up, mocking Richie. “Wanna play another game? I still have one more token.” He flicked the coin at Richie, who flinched at the contact on his cheek.

Richie’s face heated up.

Bowers took another step towards the boys, close enough that he could reach out and strangle Richie if he wanted to.

Richie wasn’t taking chances, especially because he thought Eddie may get hurt. He pushed the smaller boy in the direction of the door. “Go, go!”

“Rich-”

“_Now,_ Eddie!”

So he ran. He would later admit to being ashamed of doing so, but he ran. And he ran and he ran and he ran. 

He ended up in the park in front of the lumberjack statue, and he put his head into the hand that wasn’t broken. Tears began to flow, and he made no move to stop them. As the moon came into sight, chills ran up and down Eddie’s back and legs. A chill fell over the near empty park; Eddie was alone with his thoughts. Why had Richie jumped in to defend him so fast? His stomach fluttered and he squirmed where he sat, suddenly feeling nauseated. He pulled out his inhaler and took a puff. A thought flickered to the front of his mind. 

Is Richie okay? Eddie had just left him there, with Bowers. Him by himself was dangerous, but Eddie figured Bowers’s friends wouldn’t be far behind.  
But he was scared. He didn’t know what to do. There wasn’t anything he could do. He was much smaller than Richie; what damage could he inflict? Not much. 

And yet, he couldn’t leave him any longer.

He jumped up, and he ran. He ran and he ran and he ran. And he was not ashamed. 

The arcade was closed and empty when he got there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW/CW:
> 
> \- Period typical homophobia  
\- Graphic depictions of homophobic sparked violence  
\- internalized homophobia  
\- implied/referenced abuse if you catch it

“_Shit!_” Eddie ran his fingers through his hair. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, _shit._” He kept running down the street, looking into alleys and inside whatever shop might still be open. When it seemed like he had run through literally all of Derry, he remembered.

The kissing bridge. It was where Bowers and his friends attacked Ben, so it would make sense if they were there with Richie, or at least close by.

Eddie began to panic when he remembered how much blood there was when they found Ben. Technically, the bullies had no _real_ motivation with Ben, just that he was a chubby new kid.

Richie fought back, and had been for a long time. Richie would look worse.

He took a puff of his inhaler and ran so fast he thought his legs might snap or catch fire. They burned so much but all Eddie could think about was how much trouble Richie might be in. He would have run to one of the other losers’s house, but it was nearing nine and their mothers would _definitely_ call his mother.

Oh _fuck_, his _mother_. He was never getting out of the hospital after this. 

As he neared the kissing bridge, he heard Bowers screaming and laughing and screaming and laughing and chills went down Eddie’s back. 

Then there was silence.

A piercing scream echoed through the forest and Eddie could hear Richie sobbing as Bowers laughed. “_You don't_ belong _here, fairy boy. This town doesn’t need to catch your_ disease.”

Eddie shuddered and kept running. As the bridge came into view, Eddie couldn’t see them. He rounded the corner and Bowers had Richie pinned on the ground, straddling the younger boy, dead center on the bridge. 

Eddie didn’t know what to do, but Bowers was alone. It would be easier than if it were all of them. Eddie frantically looked around for something he could use, something to fight with. His eyes caught a pile of empty beer bottles at the base of a tree. A voice that sounded suspiciously like Richie interjected in his mind.

_C’mon, Eds. You got this! _

He picked up two of the bottles on the top, trying to make sure they didn’t make a sound. He knew that he, _and Richie_, would be dead if they did. He walked slowly over to Bowers and tried to ignore Richie’s crying and Bowers’s laughing. He couldn’t let his emotions take over; he had to be logical. He was three feet away when another blood-curdling scream left Richie’s lips. The bottles met Bowers’s head with a loud _crash_ and Bowers fell to the ground besides Richie, knocked out cold.

Eddie gasped.

He could hardly recognize the boy looking up at him. Richie’s glasses were smashed on the wood next to him, and his right eye was swollen and purple. His other had tears streaming from it, and his nose was probably broken. His lips were swollen and bleeding, and his arms had bruises around his wrists from where he was being held down.

_“Eddie?”_

Eddie snapped out of his stupor and tried to gently lift Richie to his feet, but Richie hissed in pain anyways.

“Eddie… I’m sorry…”

“_I’m_ sorry Richie, I should never have left you, I'm so sorry.”

He supported Richie holding his lower back in one hand, and holding Richie's arm over his own shoulder with the other.

“No… Eddie, ‘S not… your fault..”

Eddie tried to walk him as fast as he could back into towne, but he didn’t know where to take him. It was dark, and all the shops were shut tight. 

“Should I take you home, Rich?” He almost couldn’t say anything; his emotions were getting to him, and the sight of Richie made him want to cry.

“_No_.” Richie shook his head gently. “Don’t wanna go home… Parents… don't want me home…”

“Okay, then. Stan’s house it is.” Eddie knew not to pry when Richie said his parents didn’t want him home. And he _knew_ that Richie couldn’t come to his own house; his mother might actually _kill_ Eddie for being out so late. But Eddie also knew that Stan’s family was good, if a little strict. He knew they’d let the both of them stay the night, and he could call his mother from there.

Richie let out a sharp exhale and twisted to wrap his arm around his stomach.

“Did Bowers hurt you there, too?” Eddie craned his neck to look over at Richie.

“Don’t… wanna… talk about it…”

They got to the Uris’s house, and Eddie rang the doorbell. 

Mr. Uris answered, and his eyes went wide with disbelief and concern. “Andrea, get the first aid kit.” He briefly turned around to address his wife in the living room.

He gestured the boys inside and carefully took Richie from Eddie. He whimpered in protest but did not fight back. He led the boy into the kitchen where he quickly but lightly picked him up and set him on the counter. Eddie was close behind and sat himself on the counter with Richie. He took Richie’s hand in his own. Mr. Uris took a warm washcloth and began to clean Richie’s face of his blood.

“Mom? Dad? What’s- oh _shit_, Richie what happened?” Stan ran over to the boys, and Eddie let go of Richie’s hand. Richie turned to face him, but Mr. Uris took his chin and brought it back to the front, ignoring Stan’s choice of language for the time being.

“Bowers… I pissed him… off…” Richie slurred. “My… fault…” 

“No!” Eddie frowned. “It wasn’t your fault, he’s a hom- he’s an asshole!” Eddie caught himself, but just a little too late. Richie pulled Mr. Uris’s hand down from his face and turned to Eddie, also frowning. Eddie began to panic. He didn’t even know if Richie _was_ queer. He just knew that Bowers thought so. 

“Dad, can we have a minute?” Stan tapped his father’s shoulder.

“Uh, sure, son.” He handed the washcloth to Stan and told him to make sure that Eddie’s face is washed so he can clean the wounds.

Stan took his father’s place in front of Richie, but put the washcloth down. He just thought the three of them should talk for now. 

Eddie and Richie held each other’s gaze for a few more seconds before Richie broke down. He clutched Eddie’s shirt and cried into his chest, and Eddie didn’t complain about the blood once. 

“I’m sorry, Eds- Eddie, I’m so sorry Eddie. I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable and I never meant to hurt you. You don’t have to stay, you can go. Don't worry about me, I’ll be okay. I’ll be fine. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Eddie.”

Stan reached out and rubbed Richie’s back to try and get him to take some breaths.

“Richie,” Eddie said. “What are you talking about?”

Richie pulled away from Eddie and Stan’s hand fell to his side. “I call you names, and I make _stupid jokes_ about your family, and I’m such an _asshole_, and I’ve probably made you disgusted because Bowers is right about me; I’m a _faggot_ and I’m _diseased_ and you _hate_ diseases and sickness and if you hang around me you’ll _catch_ it and I _don't want that for you_.”

Eddie and Stan looked at each other nervously. 

Eddie didn’t know what to say.


	3. Chapter 3

Richie was a good kid. He didn’t think he was a _great_ kid, but he didn’t think he was, like, a terrible person or something. But here’s the thing. Emotions build up. So do words thrown at your face every day. They build up, and eventually, they get through the wall. And then you crash. Part of crashing is wonderful, it means you’re not holding onto those emotions or those words anymore. But that makes up for only a small percentage. The rest of it hurts like a _bitch_. Or, is that from his swollen eye and lip, and his broken nose? And his other injuries? Richie didn’t _really_ know. 

But here he was, sitting on his best friend’s kitchen counter and crying to the boy he _might_ have _actual feelings for_, at 9:45 at night. He could be home, but they wouldn’t take kindly to his injuries. They’d ask what happened and when Richie didn’t want to talk about it, they’d ask around town. Eventually they’d figure out that Bowers beat him within an inch of his life because he was on a date with another boy. 

But it wasn’t a date, they were just hanging out. 

It _wasn’t_ a _date!_

Didn’t matter. If Bowers thought it was a date, so would his family, and then he’d be in worse trouble. Maybe even out of a home. 

So when Eddie and Stan wrap their arms around him after he came out to them in a desperate attempt to push them away before he could be hurt again, he doesn’t know what to do. He stopped crying, and Eddie pulled back. Stan kept a hand on Richie’s knee, and smiled kindly. 

God, Richie was grateful for this kid. 

“‘Chee?” Eddie tapped his shoulder. 

Richie sniffed and winced from the pain. “Yeah, Eds- Eddie?” He didn’t meet Eddie’s eyes. 

“It’s gonna be okay, okay? We’re here for you. What if, tomorrow, we get the losers to the quarry? We can all be there for you. You don’t have to talk or anything, but we can splash around in that _filthy_ water to get your mind off of things. Would you like that?” 

Richie hesitates and cradles his stomach. “I- I don’t know.”

“We can all wear shirts if you want,” Stan says. “If that’s why you’re worried.”

Richie sat up straight and palmed the edge of his shirt. He took a breath and lifted up the edge of his shirt. Several nasty bruises adorned his midriff like lights on a Christmas tree. 

“Not all of this is Bowers… sometimes, other kids will push me into lockers and stuff. Sometimes it’s… sometimes it’s… sometimes it’s my… my dad.” 

Eddie gently brought his fingers forward and lightly brushed them against the bruises. Richie shuddered slightly but made no move to stop him.

“I’m so sorry, Richie,” Eddie whispers. “Stan, can you rinse out the washcloth? We still-” he sniffs. “We still need to clean off his face.”

Stan did so, and at approximately 10:15, his face was clean. The swelling in his eye had gone down, but the color was much angrier. 

Richie hadn’t said a word since the last time he spoke, and Eddie thought that this might have been one of the longest times he had gone without talking. 

Eddie himself was desperately trying _not_ to cry. He had to be strong. For Richie. So when Mr. Uris came down and carried a _very_ tired Richie up to the guest bedroom, Eddie rushed to Stan and hugged him tight, barely letting the tears roll down his cheeks.

“Eddie?” Stan furrowed his brow and gently massaged Eddie’s back. “Wanna talk about it?”

Eddie nodded and pulled back, wiping his damp cheeks. “I just… I shouldn’t have run away, I shouldn’t have left him alone. It's my fault, it's all my fault. If I wasn’t such a _pussy_ I could have _done something_. But Richie looks like he fell out of the sky and landed on his face and it's _my fault._”

Stanley shook his head. “No it _fucking_ isn't. The seven of us together could _barely_ stand up to Bowers and his gang. You were really fucking _brave_ for going back. I don't know that I would have been able to. But _you_ did. _You saved him_.”

Eddie’s chin trembled and he nodded. “I gotta call my ma. I’m definitely grounded.”

Eddie walked to the phone as Stan started cleaning the kitchen of the bloody washcloths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear this is gonna have a happy ending im working on it :0


	4. Chapter 4

_Fucking fairy._

_Don't touch my cousin._

_They’ll all know if you step outta line one more time._

_Fucking try me, fag._

_Now they’ll know._

_They’ll all know because of your little boyfriend that you just had to protect._

_Your dirty little secret is gonna come out and it's gonna hit you like a fucking truck._

Richie sat up in a frantic state, and he tried to level his breathing before realizing he was having a panic attack. He looked around and he remembered that he wasn’t in his own house, which was both reassuring and terrifying. He started to sob, muffled choking noises leaving his mouth as he tried to calm down. As the fear crept into the pit of his stomach, his mind was centered on Eddie, and he suddenly needed to find the boy.

Eddie just finished having a whispered fight with his mother about staying the night at Stan’s. She was yelling because he hadn’t brought his toothbrush, mouthwash, facewash, clean change of clothes for tomorrow, clean pyjamas, clean socks, clean, clean, clean, clean, _clean_.

Eddie hung up on her.

Stan patted him on the back and offered up his own room for Eddie to sleep in, but Eddie refused. The couch was fine. He’d be fine.  
The quiet atmosphere was disrupted by choked sobs and the _pitter patter_ of footsteps down the stairs. Richie made it almost to the bottom before stopping, and he turned around. As he was ready to go back upstairs and deal with it himself, Eddie called out to him.

“Rich? Richie, come here.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He practically tumbled back down the stairs and barreled into the boy in front of him, who was also trying (and failing) to curb his emotions.

“Can’t.. can’t sleep… I’m… I'm so scared, Eds- _ sorry_\- Eddie. He said he'd tell. He's gonna tell. He's gonna tell my secret to the whole town and I'll be homeless and I'm thirteen and I shouldn’t have to deal with that I'm _thirteen I shouldn't have to worry about being homeless I'm_ thirteen, _ Eddie._”

“Fuck that.” 

Eddie and Richie whipped around to see Stan with his arms crossed and a look of distaste on his face. “I know it’s not with your blood family, but the whole Losers Club would house you if that happened. We would never let you be homeless. My parents will be a little worried, but if you want, we can explain the situation and you could probably just live with my family. If his mom wasn’t such a goblin, I’m sure Eddie would house you too. Bill, Mike, Ben? All of us would. Bev’s dad probably wouldn’t let her but if she were able to, she fucking would. We’re your family, Rich. Whether you like it or not.” Stan smirked. 

Richie let out a broken laugh and he detached from Eddie for a moment so he could wrap Stan in a hug. 

“Thank you for being there for me.”

“Of course, Tozier. I’m your brother.” They smiled at each other, and Stan patted him on the shoulder. “I’m gonna get some sleep. My dad wants me to practice the Torah again tomorrow, and I gotta be awake for that.” He gently punched Richie’s shoulder, and walked up the stairs.

Richie turned to Eddie and gave him a small smile. “I really am sorry.”

“For what?”

“For everything. I cope with how I feel by making shitty jokes about your mom’s vagina and I know that it’s kind of annoying. And I’m sorry for the nicknames.”

“Richie, you don’t have to apologize. It really is fine.” Eddie put a hand on his shoulder and Richie frowned at it. He pushed his glasses up.

“Why aren’t you, like, grossed out or anything?”

“Grossed out?” Eddie took his hand off of Richie’s shoulder. “About what?”

“Me? Everything that’s happening in New York, uhh.. the AIDS thing. Isn’t that the… gay one? I thought for sure you’d never want to come near me again.”

Eddie chuckled. “I’d probably rather get AIDS than never come near you again. You’re one of my closest friends. Contagious or not, I still lo- care about you.”

“What, afraid to say you loooove me?” Richie puffed out his chest and half heartedly punched Eddie’s shoulder. “No homo though, bro.” He deflated and the two shared a laugh. Richie’s frown came back. “I’m just messing with you Eds- Eddie. Sorry. I’ll be serious.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I kinda like your jokes, asshole. They make me laugh. You make me laugh.”

“No I don't,” Richie said. “I make you say ‘fuck off.’”

“It’s endearing!”

“The fuck it is!”

“_Shhhhh_!” 

Richie and Eddie turned around to face the person who called out. Stan was not amused.

“There are other people in the house, assholes, you have _gotta_ keep it down.”

Richie flipped him off with a cheeky grin. “That’s what-”

“Richie’s mom said when we fucked last night.” Eddie blurted it out before he could stop himself.

And if Richie wasn’t in love before, he sure as hell was now. He gaped at the boy, ignoring the flicker of pain that went through his still sore lips.

“I think,” Eddie said.

“Where the-” Richie interrupted him.

“-it's time for bed, and-”

“-_Fuck_ did that-”  
“We’re all really tired.”

“Come from.”

Stan just went back upstairs, flipping them off as he walked away.

“Head back up to bed, Rich. You’ll feel better after you get some sleep.”

Richie hesitated. He wanted nothing more than for Eddie to sleep in the bed with him, but he was too scared to ask, to cross that line.

“Rich? You okay?” 

“Hmm? Yeah, yeah. Fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna… go back upstairs.” He turned and started walking.

“Richie?”

He turned back around to face Eddie, who was anxiously picking at the edges of his cast.

“Yeah?”

“Can I… nevermind.”

“No, what?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Nothing you say is ever close to stupid,” Richie said, blush rising in his already puffy cheeks.

Eddie felt the heat rising in his face when the words finally left his mouth. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

“Man, Eds- Eddie, I tell you I’m a queer and twenty minutes later you already want a piece of this? Shoulda known you were never the classy type. Neither was your mother.” He put his hands to his chin as if lost in a wistful thought.

“O_kay_ then, ‘Chee, coulda just said no!” Eddie turned to lay down on the couch, but Richie chimed in.

“Wait, Eds- sorry, Eddie. I’d uh… I’d like it very much if you stayed with me, actually.”

Eddie smiled. “Really?”

“Hell yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This marks the end! Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! This might not be the end of this particular story, though, as I might make it a series (if y’all want :) ) 
> 
> Thanks again!

**Author's Note:**

> ooooh i have PLANS for this so let me know if you liked it & what you think should/is going to happen! Thanks for reading! :)


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